


You Belong to Me

by unluckeys



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Eddie buys Waylons, Eddie is his typical self, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Prostitution, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Prostitution, Public Sex, Violence, honestly Eddie just fucks Waylon and destroys Blair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7463667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unluckeys/pseuds/unluckeys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forced into a life of prostitution and drugs by Jeremy Blair, what will simple IT guy Waylon park do when his most handsome John, Eddie, turns out to want to buy him! Not only is he going through the pain of Drug withdrawal, he has to deal with what this man wants with him! Will he get out? Will he find out what Eddie's real intentions are? Will Jeremy Blair find his 'property' and attempt to reclaim him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> This is another AU I really have been wanting to do for a while, so please, if you like it and want to read more don't hesitate to let me know! 
> 
> Also, I tried tagging everything, if I missed something you feel might be anyway triggering, please let me know! 
> 
> Thank you!

“You dirty little whore, you’re keeping money from me- I’m the one who’s keeping your sorry ass alive!” His voice echoed through Waylon's ears, the cane moving down again and again, relentlessly, onto his tender flesh. Only where it wouldn’t be seen. Only where the customers wouldn’t care.   
“I-I just, needed food-” his words fell on deaf ears as the cane went down once more, leaving Waylon to cry out in horrible pain. Blair hit so many times with so much effort, that the dark glasses hiding his dull blue eyes fell off, shattering onto the ground.   
“You little whore you’re going to pay for those!” He shouted in a rage, hitting in places he typically would never touch him at. Places where customers could see, where they might even turn him down because of them. Nobody wanted a bruised beauty. Money was what Waylon needs, money that will leave him farther and farther in debt of Blair, farther under his will.   
“Just for your disobedience, you’re going on street duty. You better come back with more then you need, cause that’s the only way I won’t cane you into tomorrow, got it slut?“ Blair shouted, lifting up the broken and bloody Waylon off the ground with his large hands, forcing the 5’7 man to be eye to eye with him. His feet dangled effortlessly in the air. Waylon let out a haggard cough, feeling his insides constrict painfully.   
“Yes! Please...” Waylon cried, being dropped on the floor carelessly, into another little bundle of pain. He hugged his knees to his chest, trying to protect his body from any more hits, any more abuse. Blair let out a laugh, dropping one little baggie of ‘courage’ to his ‘employee’.   
Waylon picked it off the ground, forcing the stuff into his nostril quickly as he could, the quicker he did the sooner the pain would go away. Sometimes he was ordered to inhale, sometimes to poke. His fragile arms were covered in pokes, enough the fear of needles forcefully removed from his being. These drugs, the inhaling, the poking, the smoking- was the only way he could do it, the only way he could gather the courage to stand against a building in a dark alley, to get into the car of whatever man or woman wanted, the only way he could pretend to like it to get the money he needed to get more little baggies. The goal was to get himself off the streets, to gain enough and store enough money buy himself from Blair's hands- but it was hard. Harder than he could.   
It all started back when he was with his wife, Lisa. Waylon loved Lisa with all his heart, and he thought it was returned to him. So, when one day, he was cornered in the parking lot of his work place, just leaving from his boring IT job, he thought his wife would look for him. Look for him when he was taken hostage, forcefully hooked on drugs, ordered to sell his body and soul to anyone who would pay. He thought she would find him, would not rest until she did but.. It never happened. He hadn’t heard of her, and Blair just kept saying she moved on, that she married a rich man. That there was no police report given. No one was looking. No one cared. The only one who cared enough was Blair, in his own words.   
Waylon now was owned by a man he despised, but needed. Unable to escape if he wanted. It was all in the plan, and now Waylon was drugged past remembering his own name some days. Left to sell his body and soul every single night, again and again, countless names and faces he couldn’t remember, countless people who used him. 

The moon was covered by the clouds, leaving Waylon shadowed even further in the dark. Maybe, if he hid enough, he could blame the lack of customers on his lack of money. That obviously wouldn’t work, Blair wanted his money. Returning, or being found, with any less would result in his high abuse once more, but his body was tired. Tired of being used, tired of being abused.   
When the car pulled up, Waylon's heart practically stopped. However he had to get on as he normally would, the bruises on his legs and arms painfully visible. There was no choice in his mind. It was to do this, or to get beaten probably a lot worse next time. So, he approached the luxury lexus car with a smile on his face, his short shorts riding up high past where he, the IT man, would ever dream of letting his daughter wear, much less himself.   
“Looking for a good time?” he asked with a pained smile, his own heart and soul dying inside with each word. Go numb, it’ll make it go faster...   
“Get in.” The dark, suave man spoke, his deep voice waking him up more than he wanted it too. Blinking through his haze, he walked around to the passenger's seat and got in, trying to remember if he said his price yet or not. His mind was getting very hazy. Typically, on a day with better visibility, he’d be under someone already. But, having been in the dark for a while, the customers drove past. Except this one  
“Hey sweetie, what are you looking for tonight?” Waylon spoke, his tired eyes looking over at the dark stranger beside him. This man’s hands were holding the steering wheel relaxed, his head tilted towards the window- as if trying to get a better sound on Waylon. That forced him to question if he was even making any sense at all with his question, however it was all up in the air. The drugs messed with his mind, numbed his body and his soul. It was obvious to anyone that he was tweaked on something or another. Most customers just ignore that part since all they really wanted was his slim body anyway. It seemed his words made some sense, for the rumble beside him was the suave man answering.  
“How much to get you in my hotel?”   
“500 for the hour, all inclusive.” High for the neighborhood, yet the most richest of men are seen driving this way to get a piece of discrete, paperless ass. Just like Waylon. With one grunt of agreement, the dark man began driving off, his car humming into the night.   
Typically, the nearest motel would be used, to avoid the other patrons and staff of their hotel seeing and knowing their customer picked up a hooker. But, this case was different. The expensive, dark car pulled in front of a beautiful hotel in the downtown district, a place where the richest of people visit. Where, you need to be rich just to afford a basic room. Each room was like a small apartment, with a bar and separate bedroom from the living room.   
Waylon had been there once, when he was ‘broken in’ by the first guy. He looked decent enough to walk through the lobby then, looking as if he was an assistant of someone's kid returning from a party. Not something as scandalous as the lightly dressed, tweaked out man he was now.   
Yet this dark stranger seemed to not care. About the drugs, and the rumors that would spread after their rendezvous. Waylon didn’t know his name, nor recognized his face- however, the only television he saw was when he got the ‘honor’ of serving blair and he happened to be watching the news. So, knowing him would be highly unlikely even if he was a familiar face.  
The stranger pulled up, tossed his keys to the valet and before Waylon could even touch the door handle, the dark stranger opened the door, holding out his large rough hand to assist Waylon up. Doing so with Waylon's small state launched him against the dark strangers rock hard chest, his arms wrapping around Waylon’s slim waist to support him.   
Waylon gasped as he looked up at this ruggedly handsome man, bright blue eyes looking down into his hazel eyes. This man’s dark hair was slicked back with hair gel, leaving it shiny, reflecting the moonlight. On his face held scars, soft little ones, as if an attack from a distant past. A hand begin moving up, moving to touch the scars, to feel if they were bumpy or smooth. Waylon’s hazy mind allowed for him to forget that they were being watched by the valet and the entire hotel staff who were in eye sight. The hand was then grabbed and brought to the chapped lips of the dark stranger, leaving a light kiss on the soft skin.  
“Let's go, Darling,” nothing more than a breath, a thick luscious eyebrow raised at the small man before him. Silently, Waylon nodded his head, looking down at his john’s lips and back up to his face. Waylon wasn’t one for kissing, yet this man was just driving him wild, the small smirk on his crooked lips almost taunting him. Daring him to feel them against his own.  
The dark stranger wrapped his strong arm around the waist of his escort, walking without shame into the expensive hotel. Every eye that could were looking, judging, however without effect or attention from the stranger. The man strolled right past the front desk, those eyes of employees following, soft whispers and giggles leading their way into the elevator- alone.   
Doors hardly closed before their hands were all over each other, reach, groping, gripping, grabbing, their lips in a dangerous tango, one that was surely going to be the end of Waylon, his heart beating out of his chest. His legs flew up, wrapped around the waist of his john, a moan escaping his preoccupied lips.   
“Oh, please....” Waylon breathed as the man began a torturous attack on the man's small adam's apple with his hot mouth. A light chuckle came from the stranger's lips, a hand squeezing the tender flesh of Waylon's behind, his back pressed flat against the slick metal elevator wall, the taut body before him pleasantly sandwiching him in place.  
With a soft ding, their fun had to come to a close. Setting Waylon down on unsteady feet, the stranger straightened his button up and vest, his arm returning protectively around his temporary lover, supporting him as Waylon's knees were weak from the devious attack.   
“Evening,” A patron, one who was joining the elevator as they were leaving it, spoke with a grin on his face. As if he himself was not unfamiliar to the world of escorts. Waylon’s face burned red as he hoped their little... Battle, didn’t make it onto his older eyes. This older man looked ready to go to an opera with the amount he dressed, successfully shaming Waylon in the little he had on. Giving a slight nod of his head Waylon slinked passed, leading the walk before his john, moving the strong hand once around his waist to his hand.   
This john didn’t want to let him go, not for a second. Though he would prefer to lead (always), the view from behind his new lover was splendid. So splendid, he almost missed his room. A swipe of the key card, a flick of the lights, the slam of a door and its lock was all it took before the smaller man was once more pinned against the wall, their bodies pressing tightly as a devourment of one another's mouth began. Backup, placed against the wall as once in the elevator, the man's hands moving to hold up Waylon’s body by his behind once more, beginning his kneading, his groping, feeling the soft spheres in his hands as their members grew harder and harder against each other. Their mouths broke for Waylon to breathe, A gasp for air escaping his lips from the long term assault. Waylon was lead to believe his lover lacked the need for air as his lips went right to his neck, taunting, teasing, tasting.   
“W-What do, do I moan.. Moan out, call out...” Waylon asked with bated breath, his entire body beginning a slight rocking against this stronger man, his eyes fluttering shut with the assault of his neck, his chest.   
“Eddie,” the man spoke with a deep grunt, the sound like fire in his throat. Waylon took no time to begin his cries, his demands, the man’s name on his lips what seemed permanently. Waylon was light, yet he hardly concerned being carried for the man’s arms were so strong, his legs and calves bulging within his slacks. His rock hard chest meeting Waylon's own thin one, as Eddie carried Waylon to the bed, throwing him down on the plush bedding with a light bounce.   
It was hot, so hot, his body was on fire, Waylon needed to remove these clothes, these bounds against him. These clothes, used to draw in customers, was now stopping him from what he wanted, what he needed- Eddie. Eddie himself unbuttoned the vest and dress shirt, his shoes landing in some corner, yet the slacks remained, keeping the hard meat felt once by Waylon hidden behind cloth.   
Eddie leaned in, using his teeth to gently pull the tight shorts off of his lover, the lacy thong being exposed to his hungry eyes. Soon the shorts found it’s home on top of the television, Waylon’s shirt, it’s own home on top of the lap, casting a shadow neither man took to notice of.   
“Please, oh please Eddie, take me,” Waylon moaned, his body tensing as lips begin to kiss on his abdomen, his swollen member poking out from the top of those lacy panties, his head swimming and clouding harder than he’s ever experienced. The high he became devoted too, to leave this world and do what he was told, never compared to this, the feeling of the man's strong fingers on his hips as he teased the member through the thin, see through fabric, Eddie’s lips and tongue leaving marks across his tender skin, small nips of painful pleasure here and there. It was enough, that just before he felt the hotness of that mouth on his member, he passed out. 

A cough, pain, radiating through his body- unpleasant ways to wake up. Hot, he was hot, almost on fire, his body trapped within these wraps, yet heavy- so heavy, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. Opening his own eyes took almost all the strength within him.   
“Good morning,” A deep voice spoke, his cool hand moving onto the burning forehead of Waylon. Waylon tried to clear his vision with blinking, yet that was so hard, so, so hard- he felt so heavy, like every particle within him was tied to the ground, like he had to break such ties to even breathe. He attempted the most- to sit up, to move. Yet, his feeble attempt was stopped by strong hands, keeping him back against the bed. A wet, cold, beautiful towel was placed to his forehead.   
“Shhh, it’s already darling, it’s alright. You’re going through withdrawal, but i’m going to help you through it... You are so beautiful..” Eddie spoke, gently moving the sweaty hair back from the beautiful, round, bruised face of his lover. Waylon nodded weakly, his entire body fighting him for the very action. Cold, clear water was pressed to his lips tenderly, the man’s blue eyes burning into his face as he took soft, light sips of the life saving liquid.   
“B-Blair...” Waylon coughed through his scratchy voice, his eyebrows furrowing angrily with the inability to speak.   
“Is that your pimp? Don’t worry, if he looks for you, it’ll be better... I’m going to buy you, so you'll be mine... Forever...”   
Waylon blinked through his feverish state, believing what he heard to be lies. He was going to be bought? To be, with this handsome, strong man, forever?   
It would be the first crazy john he ever got.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon is so close to escape, he can leave, he can call for help- yet something big, hard, falls into his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I still like this story, and I found past me did a good job writing half the chapter so I finished the other half! Who likes the idea of Way way being saved by a mad man? Just me? Okay lol

“I trust you won’t leave, my love. Because I know where I could find you. And If you do, you’ll most likely be cornered by that horrible man again, and harassed for money you haven’t gotten. I have to get some things for you, however feel free to make yourself at home. And, here is the phone with my number written below it.” Eddie wrote the number down in smooth, cursive numbers, with his name signed under it with a heart. Very classy, however Waylon could hardly believe it. This man, the one who touched him so carefully, so tenderly, could be so...  
Crazy.  
Waylon was in no condition to walk, his entire body was shivering, shaking, his muscles felt weak, his body heavy. It had been an entire effort to even nod his head. Yet he knew that doing it was all it took to please Eddie.  
“Beautiful.... Truely... You will be my pure, beauty...” A soft kiss on the forehead, and the large man was gone, the door clicking behind him. Waylon let out a long, drawn out groan, curling into his thin, nude body.  
Looking up, he saw the telephone. One call and he could be saved, one call and this could all be over. Waylon reached out, his arm aching, his body telling him to stop, to rest, fall asleep. Waylon's vision was blurry, his mind turning, however, when he felt that soft, smooth plastic on his fingers, he felt more alive than he had been this entire ordeal. A few tears fell down his watering eyes.  
It can all be over.  
The phone dropped off the hook, resting against the edge of the side table. A few hard blinks and he could see a little better, could see the number keys on the main part, could feel the rough bumps of the braille on the numbers below him.  
So close to freedom.  
He pushed the buttons, in the order he thusly held onto, no matter where he was, no matter how he was. Not a single drug could cause him to lose the grasp of hope that these numbers gave him. The numbers of Lisa’s phone, to their house phone. The one he taught the kids to sing, a little song that helped them memorize it. A little song, he hummed it as he pushed the numbers, the little white keys that kept him from his freedom.  
Ringing. Oh, he could feel the freedom. So close.  
“Hello?” A soft female voice rung through the other side, partially causing a sob to release from Waylon’s throat. He was feeling so many emotions, emotions he was holding back with all of the drugs. Freedom was on the other end of the phone, so close.  
“Lisa? Oh god, Lisa, Lisa I’ve been kidnapped, I was forced into prostitution, you have to help me, please...” Waylon cried in a weak voice, his entire body shaking with uncontrollable sobs.  
“Oh, it’s you. Waylon.... Where are you?” She asked, her voice not lifted, changed, or anything. It was as if she was speaking about the weather. Waylon scrunched his eyebrows together, confused.Why wasn’t she relieved, calling for the children, calling the police, anything? Why wasn’t she shocked at all? He’d been gone a substantial time, it wasn’t as if he got lost on his way home from the supermarket.  
“I-I’m in a hotel downtown, the, the John...” A feeling was telling him to not say it, don’t say the hotel’s name or Eddie’s name, “He kidnapped me... from being kidnapped by a man named Jeremy... Oh god they hooked me on drugs, made me do unimaginable things.... And now... now I can hardly move, I-I don’t know why....I just.. Please... Help me Lisa...” Waylon cried, tears streaming down his face as he managed to weakly sit up, the phone held up between his shoulder and ear. He stared at the blank TV in front of him, focusing on breathing.  
“You need to tell me exactly where you are, or I can’t, ‘help’ you,” her voice seemed eager, pushy, “yeah, he’s on the phone, some guy grabbed him downtown.” this spiked waylon’s fear. Obviously her words weren’t meant to meet his ears, because it sounded like she had removed the phone from her mouth.  
“Who’s there?” His voice got higher, His breath harder, faster. It was feeling hot, oh so hot in the room, he was sweating. Crippling fear sat in the pit of his stomach.  
“Just tell me, Waylon. It’s for the best.”  
“No, Who’s there? Tell me Lisa, who are you talking too?!” He was shouting now, the pain in his body forgotten, the fatigue that plagued his muscles far away from any resemblance of what he was feeling. All he could plainly hear was the hard, fast beat of his heart within his ears.  
“Waylon, it’s- “ before her words were even finished a large, familiar male voice chirped in.  
“You son of a bitch if you don’t tell me where you are at right now, I swear your kids will be the next on my list to enlist.” Blair. That voice was unforgettable, his deep yet empty voice sending a shiver down waylon’s back. That was the voice that drugged him, that sold him out for whoever he could find, that forced him to walk on the streets while his ‘people’ watched to make sure he didn’t try to run, the guys who would collect money outside of hotel rooms and make sure he didn’t make a phone call, sometimes helping themselves to his used body. It was him, his fault for being here, with a man claiming him. It was his fault he was within the hands of what he believed to be a mad man.  
“Don’t even say that Jeremy, you know you won’t touch them. Just give me the money, you practically found him.” Lisa’s voice rang through the background. Waylon’s jaw was practically on the ground. That’s what he meant by Lisa never filing a police report, or never looking for him. Because she was the one who turned him into a target.  
The phone hit the side of the table with a loud clang! Waylon couldn’t be bothered to even try to pick it up, he just sat back as anger, as despair, as everything raced through his veins. All Waylon could think of was how now he would never escape. All feelings of hope left him in a breath. The phone began buzzing, dictating the other side hung up. She didn’t care, she just sent him in for the money. Maybe even sleeping with the same man who abused him...  
It was all too much. The beeping lulled the man into an unconscious haze.  
Waylon awoke less than an hour later. That feeling of despair, that feeling of pain and betrayal lingered within the deep core of his body. He felt so bad, so hurt... All he could see was the hanging phone, still beeping with being left off the receiver. With a heavy hand, he reached down to lift up the handle, placing it on the receiver to finally shut it up. What lulled him to sleep now help his head to throb.  
A note, a heart, delicate writing.... With a sigh, the fingers pushed the numbers written so nicely on the paper under the phone. Waylon is crazy, he swore to himself, just crazy. Why would he ever call that mad man, Eddie? He couldn't possibly...  
Yet when the phone rang, he knew by his body did it.  
“Hello?” A deep, rich voice, reaching deep into the core of his belly, pushing aside the deep dark despair that rendered him nearly immobilized.  
“H-hi..” Waylon spoke nervously, not really sure why he called him- maybe it was the haze that settled in his brain, not from drugs but the lack of them. Maybe it was the crippling need to be near someone, anyone- to forget, to push back the horrible conversation that revealed more than he ever wanted to know.  
“Darling,” A breath, rich in tone yet soft with awe, “You called. I just have a few things to do, my love, then I will be back...” The sound of his voice brought tears to Waylon’s eyes. This guy was crazy, it was obvious in his terms of endearment, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was he wanted to be beside Waylon. In this state, Waylon only wanted the same. Those tears went down his cheeks, his throat closing with the wave of emotions slamming into him like a wave.  
“C-Can you come... back.. Please..” Waylon cried, his throat closed, his body tight, tears streaming out of his eyes. “Please, I, I don’t want.. To be alone...” No voice on the other end, at least not in the receiver. Waylon heard that deep voice yell something at someone, and soon a loud sound as if a door slammed closed, which shocked the sobbing man.  
“I will be there in 5 minutes, stay on the line with me, will you darling?” Rich, deep, a sound comforting the small man. Waylon nodded his head, taking a moment before he realized Eddie couldn’t see him, “Yes.”  
“Good, you are so beautiful my love, so beautiful.. I got you some stuff that will help you feel better, and get you clean, alright?” Comforting, trying to preoccupy Waylon’s mind as Eddie weaved and turned through traffic. His love needed him, and that was all that mattered, not the horns honking, not the people shouting as he cut some off. All that did, was his precious man.  
“O-Okay..” Waylon responded, feeling small, very small. Though his muscles still were very fatigued, he managed to bring his knees up to his chest, the closeness of his body settling his pained heart.  
Those comforting words kept Waylon awake, the words of a madman whispering to him was all he could hold onto. His rescue would never happen. He was stuck here. Never once in his hazy mind did it occur to him that he could simply call the police, yet that always was corrupt enough it might have been a better idea to not.  
Finally, the stranger made his way up to the room, a bag in his hand. When he spotted the broken man on the bed, his heart practically melted.  
His beauty was so hurt, so crushed. Whatever happened to her was something he would try to fix in the best way he could; with unconditional love.  
Rather she accepted it or not.  
Eddie rushed to her side, gently picking up her crumpled form and setting her into his lap, a smile on his lips. “Shhhh, my little one, I’m here now..”  
“T-T-They..They..Sold me, to, to him.. She put me through this, she made me do this....” Waylon sobbed, clinging to the fabric of the mad man ,the only one right now who showed him affection, who acted like he cared.  
Eddie, baffled, continued his loving words, just as if on the phone with her a few minutes earlier. Though what was in his mind was dark thoughts, thoughts which brought pain to whoever did this to his lover.  
“Who?” Eddie breathed finally, once his lover stopped her body- shaking sobbing.  
“Lisa... Lisa, she, she sold me to, to the pimp, the pimp Blair....” Waylon breathed, one more sob coming from his delicate lips, looking up into the stone cold blue eyes of his comforting stranger. They were staring away, as if thinking something deep. Which, he was. Eddie was thinking this ‘Lisa’ was his lover's mother- they were all bastards in their own kind, always watching, never helping. Just like his, always watching, never, never once, never stepping in. Always quiet, head down.  
“Don’t worry my love, we will deal with that later. Now, we are going to get you feeling better... I didn’t get all I needed, but for now, I feel this will do..” Eddie went into the bag he got, taking out a closed needle. “This is the stuff they give to help with addiction, my love. Just a little shot, and you will be able to function more than you are now. It also should help with this fever of yours..” Eddie placed his lips to the forehead of Waylon, feeling the heat of his lovers forehead. Waylon sat completely still ,his heart beating in his ears, his eyes wide. This is what he did to help tell if his kids had a fever without taking out a thermometer, but having it done to him was rather... affectionate.  
“Yeah, you for sure do... Here, we are just going to stick it.. Here” Eddie spoke, grabbing a little bit of Waylon's flesh, before the needle stuck him. Normally, before this whole ordeal, a needle would scare him. Would have him running for the hills, even enough that he’d prefer the flu to getting the shot. But now, now needles brought him comfort, brought him a haze which he lived in. This one, unfortunately didn’t do that. It wasn’t a hit, it wasn’t immediately giving him comfort. However, while sitting in Eddie's arms, he felt himself begin to feel better. More like he could move, breathe. Like the room finally would stop spinning.  
“Let’s give you a bath now, my love..” Eddie spoke, picking up Waylon bridal style, and carried him into the luxury master bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was unexpected. What do you think Eddie forgot to pick up? 
> 
> Comment what you think! 
> 
> Follow me on [Instagram ](https://www.instagram.com/unluckeys/) and [Tumblr](http://unluckeys.tumblr.com/) for future updates!
> 
> See other original stories I write on [Wattpad](http://www.wattpad.com/user/unluckeys)
> 
> Also, Add me on Snapchat if you want to see random aspects of my life! (@ unluckeys)

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you like this AU! <3


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